


shipwreck

by dustofwarfare



Series: Inter-Dimensional Life Strategy Seminars (Attendance Mandatory) [2]
Category: Final Fantasy VII, Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Crossover, M/M, Ridiculous, seminars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-09
Updated: 2014-11-09
Packaged: 2018-02-24 18:08:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2591174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustofwarfare/pseuds/dustofwarfare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein Sebastian and Ciel find themselves in a seminar entitled "How To Navigate the Turbulent Waters of Unhealthy Sexual Relationships", Part One.</p>
            </blockquote>





	shipwreck

**Author's Note:**

> This is in the same 'verse as "Limit Break (Now with Donuts!)" I could make this longer, but then I remembered everything I write doesn't have to be six thousand words :|

“Sebastian,” Ciel hisses, “Where in the name of your infernal homeland are we?” 

Sebastian looks around the room, a bland, wide-open space painted a hideously dull beige and full of uncomfortable-looking chairs arranged in a circle.

In the circle are two men; one with hair that sticks up in a frightful fashion, and makes Sebastian want to douse it with water and smooth it down. Next to him is a man who is -- well, there’s no other word for it, he’s _pretty_ , with long silver hair and a chilly expression. The eyes he turns towards Sebastian are a lovely green, and slitted like Sebastian’s own. 

He is not a demon, but he does look a bit like a cat. Sebastian is intrigued. 

“I am not entirely certain,” Sebastian says, in response to Ciel’s inquiry. “But the decor is atrocious and the company a bit odd and quite chilly -- perhaps we are in France, my lord.” 

The one with the spiky hair asks gives Ciel a once-over. “His outfit is even weirder than yours, Sephiroth.” 

“That gentleman is not wearing a _shirt_ beneath his jacket.” Ciel points at the silver-haired man. “This is no proper place for an earl, Sebastian. Relocate us at once.” 

“Do you want to kill him?” The man with the spiky hair asks, nodding over at Ciel. “Because that’s probably why you’re here, if you do. It’s usually why we end up here, anyway,” he says, indicating his silent, possibly-a-cat companion. 

“Don’t be an utter dolt,” Ciel says haughtily, arms crossed over his chest. “Sebastian doesn’t wish to kill me. He merely wishes to consume my soul when I die.” 

The silver-haired man sighs. “Your soul would taste like sadness and angst,” he says, to the man with the spiky hair. “I’m not interested.” 

“Yeah, well, you’d just choke on it anyway,” the spiky-haired man retorts, blushing hotly. “And you don’t even have a soul.” 

“Yes, he does,” Sebastian says, very softly. 

“Sebastian, this is not a cocktail hour,” Ciel informs him, then crosses his arms and glares at the room’s other two occupants. “Who in the name of the Queen are you people?” 

“My name’s Cloud Strife,” the man with the spiky hair says. He points to the man next to him. “His name is Sephiroth. We’re...it’s complicated. Who are you?” 

“I am Sebastian Michaelis,” Sebastian says, introducing himself with a slight bow. “And this is the Earl of Phantomhive.” He turns back towards Ciel, who is poking one of the chairs with his walking stick and looking at it suspiciously. 

The door opens, and a bald-headed man walks in. He takes one look at the four of them and gives a start, and then sighs so loudly, it appears to make his rather large mustache droop. He points at Cloud. “Weren’t the two of you recently enrolled in my _Conquering the Arch-Enemy Within_ course?” 

“Yes,” says Cloud, sounding miserable. He’s slunk down so low in his chair he’s practically on the floor. “We were.” 

“I thought so.” The bald man turns towards Sebastian. “You can set the coffee up in the far corner. They didn’t forget to put in the order for the boxed lunches, right? We need one vegetarian option. And if you could bring some extra cookies, I’d appreciate it.” 

“Who precisely are you, why have we been brought here, and what is the substance of which these chairs are comprised?” Ciel inquires, tapping his stick on the floor to get the bald man’s attention. 

“I’m Phil, and this is a seminar on _Navigating the Turbulent Waters of Unhealthy Sexual Relationships_.” Phil frowns at Ciel, pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket and scanning it quickly. “I’m not sure where your parents are, but you might want to find another room to play in. And those chairs are made of plastic, son, maybe you should spend more time reading books and less time cosplaying Sherlock Holmes.” 

Ciel’s expression is dangerous. “Sebastian, kill him.” 

Sephiroth leans his head back and says to Cloud, “The waters we sail would be far less turbulent if you encouraged my murderous inclinations instead of stifling them with your overgrown sense of morality, Strife.” 

“We have an entire section of the seminar devoted to the challenges of meeting our partner’s needs,” says Phil, before Cloud can say anything. “But we’re not discussing anything with a minor present. Seriously, why are you hanging around with the caterer, where are your parents?” 

“I’m waiting, Sebastian,” says Ciel, eye flashing with his Faustian mark. 

Phil gives him a confused glance and looks down at the paper he’s holding. “Wait, Sebastian, you say? Is he...Sebastian Michaelis? That means you’d be….” His brow furrows. “Does that really say _Phantomhive_?” Phil raises his eyebrows with a pointed look at Sephiroth. “He should take a page from your book, Rapunzel, and only go with one name.” 

“I’m also waiting, Sebastian,” says Sephiroth. 

Phil gives Cloud a pleading look. “You’re a good guy, aren’t you? A hero? Please stop your psychotic boyfriend from encouraging the waiter to kill me.” 

Cloud crosses his arms over his chest. “That depends on if we’re doing ice breakers or not.” He looks over at Sephiroth. “There, how's that for moral ambiguity? Waters seem any calmer to you?” 

Sephiroth gives the smallest of smiles. 

“I am not the waiter,” Sebastian says, letting a bit of an inhuman growl trickle into his voice. “I am indeed Sebastian Michaelis, and yes, this is the Earl of Phantomhive, whose given name is Ciel.” 

“And whom you do _not_ have permission to address in such a familiar fashion,” Ciel snaps, tapping his cane on the ground and glaring up at the man named Phil. 

“You can’t be -- that’s---!” Phil sputters. “We’re trying to accomplish real change to find personal growth and fulfillment, not film an episode of _To Catch a Predator_.”

“If he’s legal in whatever dimension they’re from,” Cloud says to Sephiroth, pointing at Ciel, “I should tell Vincent to check it out.”

“I think Shelke is illegal in any dimension,” Sephiroth points out. “And by illegal, I mean _annoying_.” 

Cloud hides a laugh in a cough. 

“If you would please take your seats,” Phil says, sighing again. He looks defeated. “I hate this job. I _hate_ it. Take it from me, if you’re ever promised your own successful talk show and C-list celebrity status in return for facilitating some _non-traditional self-help seminars_ , do yourself a favor and read the fine print, first.” 

“You didn’t read the fine print?” Ciel scoffs, sounding disgusted. “What kind of idiot are you?”

“The kind who knows what _plastic_ is, and --” Phil glares hotly at Sebastian, “What _age of consent_ means.” 

“I know what it means,” Sebastian says, amused, taking a seat next to Sephiroth. “It simply doesn’t affect my contract with my young master in any way.” He pats his lap with a wicked grin at Ciel. “I believe my lord will find this a far more comfortable seat than these chairs.” 

“I do expect you to see to my comfort,” agrees Ciel, nose upturned. With that, he climbs on Sebastian’s lap and settles on his knees. 

Phil gives Sebastian a thoroughly disgusted look. “You should be ashamed of yourself.” 

In response, Sebastian leans down and, very slowly, licks Ciel’s neck.


End file.
